Attrition
by BonitaBreezy
Summary: When the war struck in 1914, we were only fourteen years old. We thought we were safe. Little did we know, this war wasn't like the others. By 1918, we were plenty old enough. Strange enough, it still didn't seem quite possible. AkuRoku


Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

The war broke out in 1914 and at first, it didn't seem like anything so consequential. Wars broke out all the time. The people involved would solve in it a few months' time and everyone would go on with their lives. But the war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia turned out to be quite different.

Austria-Hungary, backed by Germany, sent Serbia an ultimatum. Russia, at the very last moment, threw their support behind Serbia and the Serbs refused to meet the Austria-Hungarian's demands. What had been a small trifle between two rather insignificant nations had turned into something on a larger scale. Something worth really paying attention to.

A few years before the war broke out, Russia and France had created an alliance. Before anyone even knew what was happening, the French were now also involved. People were starting to panic. The war was spreading out, grabbing up countries in rapid succession. And then it happened. Germany offered Belgium a lot of French land if they would let the Germans pass through. And Belgium said no. Germany attacked the city of Liege, Belgium just days later. This quite ruffled our feathers in England, because Belgium was under our protection.

Quite suddenly, before anyone could even see it coming, we were in the war, siding with France, Russia, and Serbia. We weren't worried, not really. Actually, we were a bit proud. Though Germany outnumbered us, we were better soldiers. Our soldiers were the best in Europe, and we figured we could end the war in a few days. We had industrialized far beyond the capabilities of everyone else, we assumed. If only we had known how wrong we were.

No matter what we did and when we did it, Germany always seemed to beat us, beat France, and beat Russia. It seemed that we were doomed. Our well-trained soldiers were mostly dead and the draft started. Anyone over the age of eighteen was free game. That was how we got sucked in. Funny, because we thought we were safe. When the war broke out in 1914, we were only fourteen years old. Perfectly safe. Of course, you know what we didn't. The war didn't end until 1918, and by then we were plenty old enough. Every time I think about it, I remember it as clearly as if had happened moments before.

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"Axel!" a voice called behind the tall redhead, one that was recognized immediately and welcomed. He turned to see the blonde owner of the voice running toward him, cheeks flushed pink, blue eyes troubled. Axel frowned, not liking the look. He wanted to reach out and hug the blonde until the look faded away, but he knew he couldn't do that out in the public street. Instead, he put on a cheerful grin.

"Hi, Rox. Howsit going?"

Roxas' distressed look only increased. "Ax, I need to talk to you. Come on, let's go." Roxas seized the redhead's wrist and forcibly dragged him down the street at a fast pace. Axel was really nervous now, his mind racing as he came up with worst case scenarios and then quickly banished them away impatiently. He didn't want to think the worst. Strangely enough, he didn't even come close to guessing what had really happened. Ten blocks and three flights of stairs later, Axel sat on the couch in Roxas' small, yet familiar flat. The blonde in question sat on the edge of his coffee table looking distressed.

"Roxy, what is it?" Axel demanded. "You're really starting to scare me, here."

Roxas looked at him, eyes dark and opened his mouth to speak. A moment later, he shook his head and grabbed a folded piece of paper off the table and shoved it in Axel's hands. The blonde then dropped his head into his hands and stared aimlessly at the floor. Sparing him one last long look, Axel opened the paper. It didn't take long for him to realize what it was.

"Your number came up," Axel said tonelessly. Roxas had only been eighteen for about a month, Axel just a bit longer then that. Roxas looked up at him and nodded, one pair of eyes never leaving the other's.

"What am I going to do?" Roxas whispered, his voice sounding broken and mildly scared. Axel wanted to say something, anything, to make the blonde feel better, more confident, but words eluded him. Instead, he reached out and pulled the blonde into his lap, holding him close and pressing reassuring kisses into his hair every once in a while. He didn't speak, because he didn't know what to do either. After a few minutes of thought, though, the answer seemed obvious.

That same evening, Axel went down and enlisted in the British army.

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Our training wasn't much. They simply didn't have the time to teach us properly. Maybe if they had, things might have been different. Maybe if they had, more people would have lived. Maybe my friends would still be alive out there somewhere, living happily the way they were supposed to, before that stupid war broke out. I'll tell you, when the second one came around, I wanted to scream. Didn't they realize how fruitless it all was? Of course they didn't. No one really understood, because all who knew had either died already or were ignored in the pursuit of glory.

But anyway, I digress.

The trenches were terrible places, but they were the only home we had. The Germans were on the opposite side of what we called No Man's Land, a bit higher up then ourselves. That left us at a bit of a disadvantage, because when it rained, the water all ran down hill. We couldn't climb over to retrieve the dead, either of course, without getting gunned down by the sharp shooters, so when the water came into the trench, it carried death, blood, mud, and other rather unpleasant substances. It all piled up at the bottom and it was almost like walking around in a particularly foul pond, because the water came up to our knees most times. I remember our first time in a trench. That was where we first met Sora and Riku, who quickly became good friends of ours.

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The smell was probably the worst thing about the trenches. It smelled like a mix of blood, death, excrement, and a plethora of other unpleasant things. Roxas wrinkled his nose in disgust, obviously trying not to breath too much, yet not really having much of a choice. The man showing them around laughed darkly.

"Better get used to it, kid. This is your home until you die or the war ends. Head that way," he pointed a finger to the left. "It'll bring you right up to the front."

Everything was rather quiet, not at all what either of them had expected. The man seemed to notice this as well.

"There's no fighting today. Not at all this week, actually. It's been rather slow. A lot of the time around here is really idle. Every once in a while, some fighting starts up, but usually it's pretty boring. To be honest, I prefer when it's boring." Axel could understand why.

"Anyway, go along. Someone out there will give you rooming assignments." The man scurried off down a side path, leaving the pair to look at each other in slight bewilderment before setting off in the direction he'd gestured in. They walked for about ten minutes before they came upon a large group of people lounging about, talking, reading, or just staring blankly at the wall. The smell was starting to melt into the background.

Roxas looked up at the walls surrounding them, just barely high enough to cover Axel's head.

"So…" the blonde said slowly. "The German trenches are just over that, huh? I wonder what they look like?" Axel shrugged, watching as Roxas stepped up on a nearby crate and placed his hands on the edge of the trench, ready to pull himself up to look. Just as he started to lift himself, though, there was a shout and something silver blurred in front of Axel's vision. A moment later, Roxas was flat on his back in the ground, a silver-haired man sprawled over him. The strange man lifted himself up and then offered a hand to Roxas. The blonde looked at him as if he were completely insane, but took the offered hand anyway.

"Sorry about that," the guy said, his accent revealing him to be an American. "You really shouldn't put your head outside the trench. There are German snipers on the other side who just lay there all day, watching and waiting. We've lost plenty of newbies who just got too curious. You go above the edge there, I guarantee you'll come down with a bullet hole in the center of your forehead."

Roxas went pale at this news, unconsciously taking a step closer to Axel.

"Oh…wow. Thanks a lot, then," he said quickly.

"The name's Riku," the man said, holding out a hand for a shake. "I'm from California."

They took turns shaking his hand and introduced themselves.

"I'm Roxas, he's Axel," Roxas said.

"We're both from London," Axel added.

Riku nodded knowingly. "You're friends from home?"

"Yeah. Friends. Something like that." Roxas muttered this last part quietly, but Riku seemed to have heard. A knowing grin stretched across his face and he nodded.

"All right. I get you. Come on, I'll introduce you to my best friend. Or something like that," he added.

Axel laughed, liking this Riku instantly. He ushered Roxas ahead of him and they moved quickly through the winding trench-maze. Riku led them inside and down a short flight of steps, and finally into a tiny room with two bunk beds squished inside and taking up most of the floor space. Lying on the bottom bunk of one of the beds was a brunet with hair so disheveled it poked up around his head in spikes.

"Sora," Riku said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to the brunet.

"These are some new guys. Roxas and Axel from London. I just saved Roxas here from getting his head blown off."

"Tried to look over the side of the trench?" the brunet asked. At Roxas' nod, he grinned sheepishly.

"I did the same thing. The curiosity was killing me. I'm lucky Cloud was there to save my ass."

After a moment of silence he grinned and held out a hand.

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Sora, from California."

"You knew each other before, too?" Axel asked, rather surprised.

"We grew up next door to each other," Sora confirmed. "Been best friends all our lives. When the president announced we were going to war, we enlisted together. I'm underage, but I lied and told them I was eighteen. They either believed me or didn't really care, but they let me come. Wanted to get in on some of the action, you know?"

"Turns out we were stupid, ignorant children," Riku sighed. "I'd give anything to go home right about now." Sora nodded in agreement. "It's a depressing place to be." He nodded at the empty bunk across from where he sat. "Xaldin and Zexion used to sleep there, but they both died in the last fight. It's open if you want it."

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Sora was rather blunt, but he was a sweet kid. He was the youngest of the four of us, and Riku the oldest (and certainly the most jaded), but they were good together. One of those two halves of a whole, yin and yang things, ya know?

It was almost a whole month that we were there before we got into our first battle. I don't think I've ever been more terrified in my life. They weren't traditional battles like you heard about in the stories. No, instead, one side would get out of the trenches and charge the other side. More often then not, the machine guns would get most everybody before they could get across No Man's Land. Even if we did make it there, the barbed wire would catch your clothes and you'd be stuck until an ally freed you or a German shot you. Usually, liberation came in the form of a German bullet. That's how we lost Riku.

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The sound of gunfire all around them made Axel's heart beat with adrenaline. He could believe they hadn't been killed yet. This entire mission was suicide. It seemed like the Germans were shooting everything they had and it seemed impossible that they reached the barbed wire layer. Sora pulled out a knife and tried cutting at the stuff, but he wasn't making much progress. He frowned and that's when the enemy noticed him. A shot fired off, hardly missing him, making him blink in shock and fear.

Roxas, Axel, and Riku hit the ground, flattening themselves as much as they could to avoid getting hit.

"Sora, you idiot, get back here!" Riku yelled. "You're going to get yourself shot. It's not worth it! We'll go find a shell hole and wait it out!" Sora nodded and started to run back, only to draw to a quick stop, almost as if something had grabbed him and pulled him back. The knife slipped from his fingers with the jolt and his face went white. He turned and began tugging at something and it took Axel a moment to realize he'd gotten his clothes stuck in the barbed wire.

"He's stuck," Axel breathed. "The wire's got him." Riku cussed and was on his feet in a moment, running across the twenty foot stretch, pulling his knife from the sheath on his arm as he went. The pair were together soon, miraculously not having been shot yet. Riku worked quickly, sawing Sora's clothes rather then attempting the wire. A moment later, Sora took a fumbled step forward as Riku pushed him in the direction of the two Englishmen. Riku yelled something and Sora nodded determinedly, taking off in a run. When he reached them, all three realized that Riku hadn't left the place he was standing. He was tangled in the wire, obviously something he'd accidentally done in his hurry to cut Sora free. One moment he was quickly sawing away with his knife, and the next he was slumping forward, the only thing keeping him from hitting the ground completely was the wire, holding his dead body in place like some sort of grotesque puppet. His head drooped forward and Axel could see the blood spilling quickly from the back of his head, soaking and dying his silver hair a bright red color.

Sora was screaming and trying to run back to his friend, Roxas holding him back with all his strength. The brunet clawed at the blonde's hands, trying to break loose.

"We've got to help him!" he cried. "We've got to…"

"He's dead, Sora!" Roxas growled back. "He got a bullet to the head. There's nothing we can do for him now."

"We can't just leave him there!" Sora sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"We have to," Roxas said, gentler this time. "If we don't get away now, his sacrifice will be for nothing. We've got to go."

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Somehow, we carried Sora away without getting injured. I don't know how and I probably never will. What I do know, though, is that that image haunts my sleep. Riku was a good friend, a good person. He didn't deserve what he got. I don't really think anyone did. But especially not Riku. After his death, Sora closed down. He didn't laugh or smile. He hardly talked or ate. He just sat there, blank eyed and sad. We didn't know what to do to help him. Believe me, we tried…but…there was just nothing we could do. We did the best we could for him, but it wasn't long before Sora just gave up. Whenever I think about him, I always wonder if we could have done something. I wonder if we let him die, if it was our fault. We were sitting right there. Of course, it seemed like he moved so fast. One second he was sitting next to us and the next he was dead on the ground.

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"Sora, you've got to eat. Riku wouldn't have wanted this and you know it." Sora didn't respond. He didn't take the food Axel offered him. He just stared at the wall as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Axel sighed and set the bowl of questionable substance on the ground next to the brunet and leaned back, looking at Roxas on his other side. The blonde looked sad and miserable.

Knowing him like Axel knew he did, he could read it all in those blue eyes. Roxas felt partly responsible and wished he could do something. There was no reason for him to feel this way, but it was a common thing. Survivor's guilt. Axel understood it. Somehow, he felt that if he had just acted or done something, Riku might still be alive and Sora would be his old self. He opened his mouth to say something when Roxas jumped to his feet, screaming,

"Sora, NO!" He was too slow, however, and by the time the last syllable cleared his lips, Sora was falling backward from where he'd poked his head over the edge of the trench. He hit the ground with the thud of dead weight, his blue eyes wide and staring lifelessly at the sky, framing the neat bullet hole centered between them.

Roxas let out a moan of distress, burying his face in his hands, unable to look. Axel threw up, unable to control the urge. The sound of voices and running feet approached them and a few soldiers came around the corner, taking in the scene.

"What the hell happened?" a voice growled. A blonde man by the name of Cloud pushed his way to the front of the group, looking down at the corpse on the ground. His face softened slightly as he realized who it was. Sora was well liked by all.

"He put his head above the wall, sir," Axel reported, his voice sounding hoarse and not like him at all.

Cloud shook his head.

"He knew better," he said, stating a fact. "Why would he do something so stupid?"

"Riku died last week," Roxas spoke up and understanding flooded Cloud's features. He stared at once jubilant brunet, shook his head sadly, and sighed.

"Move the body somewhere out of the way," he commanded.

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Sora was only sixteen. It was rather obvious he wasn't of age, but by that time no one cared. They took as many people as they could get. It seems rather ridiculous, if you really think about it. Obviously you're doing something wrong if the people you recruit keep dying and you have to send out for more. But did they change their strategy? Of course not. That made far too much sense. Instead, they kept on trucking, sending more and more out, losing more and more, replacing them with newbies. Before long, it was almost like Sora and Riku had never existed. No one spoke of them. We never spoke of them ourselves. Sometimes I have to stop and think, really think to myself, to figure out if they were real people. But then I remember Riku's body hanging over the wire and Sora's lifeless eyes staring at the sky and I know I didn't imagine that. They were real and they were alive and they loved each other selflessly, like only true friends could.

Finally, the allies seemed to get that their plans weren't working out, and they came up with a new one. Total bombardment with everything we had. The original Blitzkrieg, if you will. And it worked. It worked well. Before long, we gained the upper hand. Germany had no chance, and everyone knew it. The victory was sweet. The higher ups decided that the war would end on November 11, 1918 at eleven o' clock. Eleven eleven at eleven. Cute.

On that day, there was no fighting. You could hear the tension all around, everyone watching the time. It seemed to move so slowly, but we knew. Three hours, an hour and a half, thirty minutes until the war was over. Until we could all go home and try to forget this entire monstrosity had ever happened.

Of course, there were the more ambitious ones. The ones who wanted glory. To be war heroes. It just so happened that our commander was one of those.

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"What do you mean, you want us to attack right now?" Axel demanded angrily of Leon. "The war will be over in twenty minutes and you want us to go up there now? No way in hell! I haven't lived this long just so I could die at the very last second!"

"You'll do what you're told," Leon said sternly. "Or you'll be considered a deserter. This is our last chance to get a hit in."

"They've already lost!" Roxas cried in frustration.

"There's no point now!" another voice agreed from the crowd in front of them. A flood of voices rose up, all arguing to in favor of staying in the trench.

"You will do what you're told or I'll shoot you all right now!" Leon cried angrily. "If you go up, you might live. If you stay down, I will shoot you where you stand and you'll have no chance!"

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Looking back, I wonder why we didn't fight him. I suppose these are the sorts of things you think of after years of reflection. We easily outnumbered him. It would have been so simple. Yet, for some reason, we listened. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, we wanted to go up. Not to die, obviously, but for revenge. Revenge for the people we loved who had been killed. Revenge for Riku and Sora, both killed in the prime of their youth. Whatever the reason, up we went. It was the biggest and last mistake of many of our lives.

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A whistle blew somewhere and they charged up the trench wall and toward the German trench. It was a few moments before the enemy realized they were being attacked, which gave them an advantage. Axel was scanning for a shell hole, a place they could hide until eleven when the hostilities would cease. He'd just caught sight of one and turned to inform Roxas, when the blonde received a bullet to the chest. He looked so surprised as he fell backward from the force of the shot, the sound of his body hitting the ground drowned out by the gunfire all around. Axel hit the ground quickly, crawling toward his lifelong friend. He was still alive, but barely, his breath coming out with a harsh sound, eyes unfocused and perhaps a bit confused.

"Roxas," Axel moaned. "Don't die now. You can't die now! It's almost over!"

Roxas raised a hand and caressed Axel's cheek softly.

"Sorry," he muttered quietly. "I tried to stay with you. I really did."

"You still can, Roxas. Don't give up, please! Just a few more minutes!" As carefully as he could, he dragged the blonde into the shell hole, stripping off his jacket so he could press it against the bleeding wound. He frowned and pushed it away, leaning up and kissing Axel on the lips softly, just once, before collapsing back from the pain.

"Roxas…please," Axel murmured, his voice breaking slightly.

Roxas smiled softly at him before he released one last breath and his body relaxed completely. Out of desperation, Axel searched for a pulse, but couldn't find one. Roxas was dead. With tears slipping down his cheeks, he pushed the blonde's eyes closed gently and got out of the shell hole. He raced back towards his own trench, intent on finding one person and one person only. The fighting was stopping all around him, and a glance at his watch informed him that there was one minute until eleven.

He finally found Leon waiting in the trench. He'd sent them all out and stayed back safely. Axel's veins burned with anger. He'd never been so angry in his life. He wanted to cause pain. Terrible, awful pain. He raised his rifle and pointed it at the brunet man, a scowl set on his face.

"Axel…" Leon said slowly, backing up. "What are you doing? Put that down, you could accidentally hurt someone."

"It won't be an accident," Axel growled back.

Thirty seconds. All around him, people raised their guns in the air and fired, all wanting to claim being the last person to fire a shot in the Great War. Using the noise as a disguise, Axel aimed and shot out both of Leon's knees. Letting out a scream of pain, the man hit the ground, unable to stand on the ruined joints. Then he waited, listening to Leon's pain filled moans. At ten fifty-nine and fifty-nine seconds, he shot Leon in the head.

At eleven o' clock, he threw down his gun, reentered No Man's Land, and went to retrieve Roxas' body.

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There wasn't a dry eye in the auditorium. The high school students all stared at the old man sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of the stage. He looked like he'd die if he dared to move a muscle, yet his voice was strong and precise as he recounted the tale of a time in his life that was better forgotten. Out of the middle of the crowd, a freshman raised her hand slowly. Axel squinted at her and nodded his head slightly in her direction.

"Yes, young lady?"

"Do you regret it?" she asked, her voice sounding timid and scared amongst the immense hush of the room.

"Shooting Leon?" he asked. At her affirmative squeak, he threw back his head and laughed. "No. I've never regretted it. I've done many things in my life that I wish I could go back and change, but that is something I will be proud of for the rest of my life."

No one was brave enough to ask any questions after that, and soon, a young nurse came out and took the handles of his wheelchair, pushing the man out of view. The principal stood up, looking almost uncertain, and spoke,

"Well…I suppose you all better head off to ninth period," he said, sounding much like he'd been teary-eyed himself.

With these words, the spell was broken. Teenagers stood and grabbed their bags, talking erupted like a geyser, and they set off to their respective classes.

The next week, when the obituary of a one hundred and nine year old World War One veteran appeared in the paper, only one person paid it any mind. The single freshman girl who'd been daring enough to raise her hand and ask a question clipped it out and put it in a shoebox, along with the war medals of her great-uncle Roxas.


End file.
